


I Can Give You This

by greenstuff



Series: Places We Otherwise Wouldn't Go [2]
Category: Burnt (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 09:43:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5201219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenstuff/pseuds/greenstuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An old lover comes calling. Adam is not happy.</p><p>Set in the same universe as Cook Me Breakfast (And Love Me Forever) but stands alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Give You This

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Notchka88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notchka88/gifts).



“Tony!”

His voice in a familiar slightly Russian accent turns Tony’s head. He smiles when he sees Yevgeny. He hasn’t seen the man he once dated since that day he sat across from the blonde at a pub and only felt a little devastated when he learned Yevgeny was getting back together with his ex, a photographer named Paulo. “Hello.” Tony side steps Kaitlin and steps forward to accept a warm hug.

“This is a seriously fancy place.” Yevgeny says with a grimace.

Tony laughs, remembering that the personal trainer’s complete lack of appreciation for fine food was one of the first things Tony liked about him. “You’re not here to eat are you? Because I’ll warn you right now, there are no fries on the menu.”

“No fries?” For a moment Yevgeny’s face is a mask of devastation but then he grins easily and winks. “Definitely not my kind of place. I just wanted to see if I could steal you away tonight between lunch and dinner for a coffee and a chat.”

Before Tony can be too confused about the intention behind the invitation, Yevgeny continues. “Paulo and I are only in London for two days, and I’ve missed our talks. I thought maybe we could catch up over something from my naughty list.”

“I would love to.” Tony says, meaning it. He hasn’t had many exes, and most he would prefer to never see again, but his relationship with Yevgeny had ended as amicably as it started and he thinks this is one man he wouldn’t mind trying an uncomplicated friendship with. 

They make a plan to meet at two thirty at a café a half kilometer away and then with a final hug and muttered disparaging comment about food that is better fit for dolls than men, Yevgeny disappears into the afternoon sunlight.

. . .

“Who was that?” Adam is leaning against the doorway to Tony’s office, his arms crossed over his chest.

“That was Yevgeny”

“Yevgeny Yevgeny? Your ex, Yevgeny?”

“Yes.” Tony’s brown furrows in confusion. It’s been a year since Yevgeny left him for Paulo. Yes, seeing him was strange, but Yevgeny is still Yevgeny, all smiles and charm and genuine affection. It was nice to see him, to hear about his life. It’s nice to know that it can work. Even though their problems were so very different, seeing Yevgeny and Paulo thriving, more in love now than they ever were before, gives Tony hope for he and Adam.

“Nice of him to stay in touch.” Adam’s tone is clipped and he hitches his shoulders a little like he unconsciously wishes his arms weren’t already crossed.

Tony smiles “Yes, I’m looking forward to catching up.”

“I see.” Adam stands in the doorway for a moment as if he’s not quite sure why he’s still there. “Well, I’ll leave you to…” He gestures awkwardly at Tony’s desk before turning abruptly and walking away.

Tony turns his attention to his work immediately, wanting to make sure he’s done in time for his coffee date.

. . .

Helene is no stranger to Adam’s moods. Despite the fact that his relationship with Tony has had a mellowing influence, there will always be days when something consistently goes not quite right and Adam spends the evening barking orders and placing everything down with just a little too much force. She hates those days, but they’re pretty much par for the course. Today, however, it’s clear something is wrong beyond a minor kitchen disaster – clear both because there hasn’t actually been a disaster yet today, minor or otherwise, and also because Adam is attacking a bag of onions like they personally affronted him.

She exchanges a grimace with David who is prepping the lamb for dinner to her right. When she’s done peeling potatoes she approaches Adam’s station. “Adam?”

He doesn’t look up.

“Is everything alright?”

“Of course everything is alright. Why wouldn’t everything be alright? I have two meals a day with you most days, it’s just food, it doesn’t mean anything.” His words tumble out fast, angry, and half under his breath. Helene widens her eyes at David who matches her expression and steps back to her prep station.

Whatever is wrong, she really hopes it’s a one night thing. She really doesn’t want to go back to the days where screaming was Adam’s only method of communication.

. . .

Everything is a disaster. David overcooked the lamb three times. Helene must be drunk because her mint sauce tastes like she put actual dirt in it, and clearly Max has forgotten how to sauté. And Tony is up front of house, smiling at everyone, making polite chatter and never once finding an excuse to come back to the kitchen.

But the time service is over Adam has screamed at every single member of his kitchen staff – sometimes for no reason – and he’s never seen them clear out so quickly at the end of a long night.

Tony finally appears in the kitchen as Helene and David are hurrying to the door. When they’re alone Tony asks him what’s wrong,  Adam’s only response is to crowd in close, one hand holding Tony’s face so he can assault his lips, the other cupping Tony’s ass. The kiss is sharp, hard, possessive. He pushes Tony backwards towards the almost privacy of Tony’s office.

“Adam…” Tony holds Adam’s face between his hands and forces Adam to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

Adam grabs Tony’s ass with both hands and pulls their bodies close so Tony can feel his arousal. Tony bites his lip, concern clear in his eyes. But when Adam leans in and captures his lips in another demanding kiss Tony gives in. He lets himself be pushed backwards into his office. He helps with the shedding of shirts and lets Adam suck a bright bruise at his clavicle, his hands clenching in Adam’s hair, lips parted to allow tiny gasps of pleasure to escape.

Adam blows Tony right there in the office, pulling off just in time to let Tony spend himself all over Adam’s face. He wants Tony to think about him every time he sits in that chair. To see Adam’s face, tilted back, eyes closed, as if in supplication, his hot, pink tongue darting out to lick Tony’s come from the corner of his mouth.

Yevgeny can have coffee dates and hugs in the afternoon, but Adam can give Tony this. And maybe, if his luck hasn’t entirely run out, this will be enough.

. . .

Tony can’t get his breath back. It would probably help if he stopped kissing Adam. But he can’t. He can’t break away from those stupidly perfect lips that taste like mint and tarragon and Tony. Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice reminds him he’s worried about Adam, but he can barely understand it through the buzzing in his brain.  

Eventually he pulls back and just _looks_ at Adam. Sometimes he manages to forget just how gorgeous Adam fucking Jones is. But at a moment like this, with a streak of come drying on his cheek and his pupils blown wide with lust, Adam is so gorgeous it’s almost impossible to look at him, but absolutely impossible to look away.

They haven’t said ‘I love you.’ It’s too soon. Tony knows this just as he knows tonight was about more than Adam wanting to get them off. But even if he can’t say it, he feels it. Adam is a fucking miracle.

Tony grabs his discarded shirt and a bottle of water off his desk and gently wipes Adam’s face clean.

Adam watches him with wide, unblinking blue eyes. The willing submission still takes Tony’s breath away. It’s the ultimate sign of trust from a man he once thought was incapable of trusting anyone. 

Tony kisses Adam gently against the corner of his mouth because he wants to say those three little words, but not yet. It’s too soon.

. . .

When life is good Adam likes kissing. He likes sex too, obviously, but there's something about kissing -about kissing  _Tony_  when his heart is pumping and the adrenalin is racing through his veins and he could run or scream for the sheer exhilaration. Because when he kisses Tony the world disappears. Which means that when Adam takes all that  _energy_  and he uses it to kiss Tony the world disappears and there's nothing left but joy. 

When life is bad, when every time Tony says his name Adam is expecting it to be followed by the ominous 'we need to talk', Adam likes kissing, but he wants sex. If kissing Tony distills the world until all that's left is the feel of Tony against him and the bubble of feelings that threaten to explode in Adam's chest, sex distills Adam into a puddle of dopamine. When he is inside of Tony he doesn't think, but when Tony is inside of him there is no such thing as thinking. Being fucked by Tony is the first hit of cocaine. Every time. 

Adam doesn't care if he's transferred all of his addiction to Tony, because he cannot fathom how that could be a bad thing. His addiction was about control - and then about reclaiming that elusive, euphoric feeling like he could control the world. Being with Tony is about surrender, about giving Tony everything he is, and hoping with an intensity that is almost prayer, that it might be enough. 

. . . 

Tony isn't sure if he should be worried about the fact Adam has lost any self restraint he had around Tony, or fall to his knees every morning to thank the heavens for his good fortune. It's an even draw because when Adam is spread out beneath him, those  _eyes_  glued to Tony's face, those lips whispering "please" and "yes" and "don't stop,"  Tony reaches a level of bliss he didn't know existed. And yes, all the orgasms and nights spent wrapped in Adam's scent, tangled in his arms, have turned Tony into a sap, but he can't actually bring himself to give a shit. But when he steps into the kitchen and sees the pinched look of stress around Helene's eyes, and walks in on David wiping away tears in the pantry, he remembers there's something wrong with Adam and then all he feels is cold, sickening guilt. 

"I'm failing him." 

Dr. Rosshilde just watches him, waiting for him to spill the whole story. Sometimes Tony wonders why he pays her so much when her job seems to consist of sitting there like the Mona Lisa and occasionally spouting off a single sentence that she probably got from a fortune cookie. 

"I don't know what's wrong. But he won't talk about it. He just yells at his staff and..." Tony flushes and mumbles, "keeps distracting me with sex." 

"Distracting you from what?" 

It's the question Tony has been unable to answer for himself but hearing it from someone else the impotent frustration explodes into a stream of thoughts he hadn't even known he'd had. "It doesn't matter from what. He's not using, he wouldn't have time to cheat, and honestly I don't care if he's fucking cheating on me with his drug dealer while injecting cocaine in between his toes. I just want him to talk to me." Tony clamps his mouth shut. The truth of what he said is terrifying. Because he doesn't care what Adam does, Tony is in this. There is nothing that could force Tony to give him up, not now, not when he's lost him so many times already. But he's also realizing there's a very real possibility that Adam Jones is going to destroy him. 

"When did this start?"

"What?" It's such a mundane question that Tony needs her to repeat it before he remembers they were talking about how withdrawn Adam is and not how Tony has completely given himself over and will probably never recover. 

"When did Adam shut down?"

Tony remembers the night in his office, the intensity of it. Kisses that tasted desperate on his tongue, Adam's face dripping come and so beautiful it  _hurt_. That was the night. That's when everything shifted. "Ten days." 

He knows what Dr. Rosshilde is going to ask before she does but anticipation doesn't make answering any easier. "What else happened ten days ago?" 

"You don't remember?" Tony can't help feel a little rush of pleasure at turning the question back at her. 

"This isn't really about what I remember," she chides him gently. "But yes, that was the day you had lunch with your ex-boyfriend."

"Yevgeny," Tony supplied. 

Dr. Rosshilde gave him one of her annoying, knowing looks.

“But Adam…” Tony lets the protest die. There are many things Tony knows about Adam, the way he twitches a little in his sleep, how his feet are always hot at night, how he has this weird superstition about new knifes and lamb, but he doesn’t know everything. “You think Adam is jealous?” The idea is almost too absurd to say, but from what can only be called the twinkle in Dr. Rosshilde’s eyes, he’s obviously right.  

“Adam cares about you.”

Tony nods. He knows Adam cares about him.

Dr. Russhilde looks unaccountably disappointed in him, as if Tony is missing something obvious. She sighs. “What else does Adam Jones care about?”

That was an easy question. The list was short. “Food. His reputation. Helene and Lily. Anne Marie. Me.”

“How do you know?”

“Know what?”

“How do you know that Adam cares about his reputation? Does he tell you?”

“Of course not. Anyone who’s been in any room for more than ten minutes with Adam can tell his reputation matters. He wears it like armour.”

“Armour against what?”

Tony considers this for a moment. He really hates how Dr. Rosshilde can take a simple unconscious word choice and spin it into some great lesson about his inner consciousness. It’s an irritatingly effective tool. “The world? After Paris… well, after Paris, Adam had a lot of guilt I think.”

“Because of how he left things with Jean Luc?”

“With Jean Luc, and Anne Marie, and the restaurant, and Michel…” Tony gestured to indicate that the list went on.

“And you?”

Tony shrugs. “Perhaps.”

“Do you feel like Adam needed to make anything up to you?”

“No.”

“Because you were in love with him?”

“That is part of it.”

“But not all?”

“Adam left badly. But he didn’t leave _me_. His leaving had nothing to do with me.” Tony thinks Dr. Rosshilde should know this already and he wishes she wouldn’t make him talk about it. “I came to terms with that a long time ago.”

“Have you ever told him?”

“That I ended up on this couch because I couldn’t accept the fact that a man I loved disappeared and everyone else who knew him thought, wished, he was dead? No.” Tony’s tone is sarcastic. “That hasn’t come up.”  

“So you never talked about Paris, or his time in America, or told him that you forgive him?”

Tony shifts in his seat. “It didn’t seem necessary.” But as he says the words he realizes how ridiculous that is. A few sentences here and there as resolution for years of pent up grief and guilt and anger and sorrow. He feels like an idiot for thinking that would be enough.

“And now?”

Tony narrows his eyes. He knows she knows and he resents her for making him say it. “Now I guess I have some things I need to say.”

. . .

Adam knows that the third Thursday of the month is Tony’s regular appointment with Dr. Rosshilde and he’s waiting, feeling sick with anxiety when Tony walks into his office, hanging his coat casually over the back of the chair before catching sight of Adam and smiling a hello.

They only have about an hour before the kitchen staff arrives to begin prepping for the day, and Adam plans to take full advantage. He pushes the door closed and is in Tony’s personal space, so close he can see the pulse fluttering under the skin of Tony’s throat. He’s leaning in to capture Tony’s lips when Tony steps back.

“Wait…”

Adam winces, but he steps back and gives Tony room to move away if he wants.

Tony gestures to his desk chair, his face inscrutable. “I have some things I want to say. So sit down, shut up and let me.”

It’s cruel, Adam thinks, doing this _here_ , and for a foolish moment he tells himself this can’t be what he knows is coming because Tony isn’t cruel and he would never choose to break Adam’s heart _here._ But hope, Adam knows, is just a precursor to heart break. So he sits in Tony’s desk chair, and tries to tell himself that he can be happy being Tony’s friend.

 “I never blamed you.”

Adam blinks. That was not the gentle let down he had been anticipating. If this is an ‘it’s me, not you. I’m sorry I am in love with Yevgeny’ talk, Tony is _very_ bad at it. But somewhere deep inside, Adam knows it’s not that talk. This is something much more wonderful.

A tension he hadn’t known he was carrying begin to loosen as Tony continues to talk, explaining in clear, simple terms he can be sure Adam will understand that while everyone else he left behind was angry at Adam and blaming him for everything he had done, Tony was angry at himself. But he wasn’t angry anymore and he needed Adam to understand that the past didn’t matter. Tony never cared what Adam had done, not really. There is no room to care about things and stupid drug fueled actions, and there’s definitely no room to have feelings for nice guys in committed relationships named Yevgeny, when there is _Adam_ to soothe away that hurt just with his presence, his smile, his perfect fucking face.  And then Tony kisses him and there’s nothing else in the world.  

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Notchka88 because she wanted to see Adam get jealous over nothing.


End file.
